I might have mentioned, offhandedly, once, throughout this blog's eight-year history, that I have a problem with Farmer H helping himself to things that are specifically earmarked for another. The #1 son is just like him. Not a tasty morsel to be bought on a shopping trip that would tempt either's appetite. But let The Pony or I choose a new snack, and it disappears overnight. Somebody must be breaking in, because neither Farmer H nor #1 ever have an inkling what might have happened to it.
Farmer H eats a banana every morning. They lay on the section of the kitchen counter near the door, so he can grab one on the way out. I've tried those hangy-banana-thingies. Farmer H broke two of them before I gave up. So now I pry the bananas apart from their bunch, and line them up on Farmer H's counterspace. Believe me, if I moved them five centimeters, he would be lost. He'd do without his daily banana, then ask me when I'm going to buy more, even though they've just been relocated five centimeters west.
Last week I was feeling a bit potassium-depleted. I ran in Save A Lot for some other items, and grabbed two very ripe bananas. Sometimes, Save A Lot puts bunches of them in a cart out front, with a sign that says, "Take me. I'm free." I suppose banana-bread bakers regard those times like a starchy out-of-season Christmas. I don't take them, because the people in my house like their bananas green. Bitter. Almost crunchy. But this day, the very ripe bananas I grabbed were not brown enough to be free. I put them on the cutting block when I got home. Beside the Cheetos that go in The Pony's lunch every morning.
That evening, I enjoyed a sweet, tasty dose of potassium. I skipped a day, then remembered that I still had one banana left. I suppose I don't even have to tell you that I found my banana missing. The Pony knew nothing. He likes his bananas green. Like his father. The father I have not even asked about the missing banana. We all know he took it. We all know he'll give an excuse for taking that one instead of the three he had laying on the counter.
A soft fruit ain't safe in a house full of hicks.
2 comments:
Men have to mark their territory in a variety of ways. At least in the way Hick chose this time, you didn't have to get down on your knees and use Lysol on it...
Be grateful. And free bananas (sometimes) at Save-a-Lot? I'll have to check that out. Currently, I get my smoothie bananas from the kids, rescuing the mushy fruit before it ends up in the trash can.
Sioux,
Well, Madam, aren't YOU just one big compost pile!
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